Soft Spot
by grayautumnsky13
Summary: Despite the split, Robin just can't separate Regina and the Evil Queen.
1. Chapter 1

Zelena's words played again and again in his mind, her words echoing over and over as his panic set in and million worst-case scenarios began to spin. He'd only been back for a couple of days and today was supposed to be a celebration of that—but he wasn't celebrating. And with each second that passed, he couldn't help but wonder if this was the price he'd have to pay for the magic of his resurrection…

 _"She's gone! She's gone!" Zelena called out with wide and terrified eyes as she burst into Granny's and pushed her way to the center of the room. "I don't know where she is! You have to help me, Regina!"_

 _Robin had watched Regina slowly turn to her sister, and for a split second, he wondered if this were some sort of game. But as soon as his eyes met Zelena's and as soon as he felt Regina's fingers curl tightly around his hand, he knew that it wasn't—and as that realization set in, a knot formed in his stomach, quickly tightening until it was nearly impossible for him to breathe._

 _For a moment, no one said anything—and then all at once, everyone was speaking. He caught little bits here and there—something about someone wanting to get vengeance on the Wicked Witch and something else about the purity of a baby's heart and something else about how dark magic worked—and it wasn't until Regina's voice lifted over the rest that he actually understood how it had happened._

 _"How could you have left her alone?" Regina demanded. "How could you have been so careless, Zelena?"_

 _"It was only for…"_

 _"Are you actually defending yourself!?" Regina cut in, not letting her finish and likely not caring to hear the irrelevant explanation. "I knew I should have never let you…"_

 _"Let me!? She's my daughter!"_

 _"Unfortunately for her," Regina retuned as her eyes fell away from her sister._

 _Zelena shook her head, and her hurt was evident; but no one seemed to process that. The next thing he knew, he and Regina were going in opposite directions. Henry was staying with Roland and Belle would stay with Neal. Killian and Emma would check one side of town and Snow and David would check the other, while Regina went down to the docks and Robin went into the woods—and as he trudged forward, all he could think about was his tiny daughter and how she didn't deserve any of this._

But as he stands on the stairs that lead into Regina's vault, he can hear the soft hum of Regina's voice and he can see the glow of candles, and overwhelming sense of relief washes over him. He treads quietly down the stairs and recognizes the lullaby. A smile curls onto his lips as he remembers how she'd sang it to soothe a sick Roland when they were together in the Enchanted Forest and how she'd told him that it had been Henry's favorite when he was a little boy—and when he reaches the bottom of the stairs he can tell that his daughter feels the same way.

There's a little bundle of pink nestled in the crook of the Evil Queen's arm, cooing and smiling as she stares up at her. Her little fingers are wrapped around a shimmering strand of diamonds that the Queen is holding over her, and a spit bubble forms on her lips—and he watches as the Queen laughs softly as she pops it, making the little girl's eyes go wide with wonder.

They're sweet together, he thinks to himself—even this version of Regina and his daughter—and he can't help but be reminded of that moment in the Enchanted Forest when they'd first met, and she's swooped in to save his son. Everyone had been taken aback, himself included, to see the Evil Queen in all her regalia selflessly running toward a child she didn't know to keep him from harm's way. Her smile had been so genuine as she handed his son the stuffed monkey, and all he could do was thank her, and wonder how someone like the Evil Queen could have such a soft spot for children.

Clearing his throat, he pushes off the bottom stair, stepping into the vault and making himself known. The Queen's head turns quickly and he hears a little gasp escape her—and for an all too brief moment, there's a glint of happiness that flashes behind her eyes—and he realizes, this is the first time she's seeing him.

"Robin…" she murmurs breathlessly as the glint fades away. "I didn't hurt her."

"I didn't believe that you did," he says, taking a tentative step toward her and smiling gently down at the girl in her arms. "I'm just glad that she's okay."

"She wasn't even watching her. She never does."

"So you took her…"

The Queen's eyes cast downward as she rocks the baby in her arms. "She deserves better than a careless mother."

"I would have to agree," Robin says as he sits down beside her—and for a moment, he struggles to wrap his head around the notion that he's sitting beside the Evil Queen rather than Regina. When he came back just a few days before, she told him about the split and regretfully told him that it hadn't fixed her—and in that moment, his heart broke at the realization that she thought she needed to be fixed at all. Pushing away the memory, he smiles gently, he looks from his daughter to the woman beside him, and for the life of him, he can't separate the two because when he looks at her, all he sees is Regina.

"I suppose you're here to take her," she murmurs, her voice suddenly distant.

"No," Robin says, waiting for her to look back at him. "Not yet, anyway." Tentatively, he reaches out and rubs two fingers against the baby's soft cheek, chuckling as she coos and holding his breath as he lets his arm slide loosely around the Queen's waist. "She looks perfectly safe and content where she is." And then, he looks back to the Queen—to Regina—and his heart aches when tears well up in her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

He knows that she's always been alone in her world—ignored and disregarded, her spirit beaten down time and time again until the light and been extinguished; then when it finally mustered the courage to rise again, her hope and kindness was replaced with the cruelty and darkness she used as her cover—a mask that served as her protection and allowed her to persevere.

The night he came back to her, he'd ran to her—he'd drawn her up into his arms and held her close, cupping the back of her head as he felt her heart beating against his, and he told her that he loved her. He'd said it again and again in an attempt to make up for all the times he didn't say, and she'd returned the sentiment. Her voice cracked as she pulled away, smiling tearfully as the back of her hand stroked his stubbly cheek as those three little words fell effortlessly from her lips—and he'd been so unprepared for what would come after it.

He wanted to know everything and wanted to hear every last detail of her life between his departure and return, and his chest tightened and his mouth went dry when she told him what she'd done to herself—and he tried again and again to process it and to understand why anyone who claimed to care for her had allowed her to do such a destructive thing to herself. He couldn't fathom how anyone hadn't seen what this would do to her, how dangerous it was for her to split herself in half, cutting out the parts of herself she'd deemed unlovable and unworthy.

There'd been tears in her eyes as she explained what she'd done and what it meant for her—and it broke his heart to see that those tears weren't tears of regret, but instead they were tears of resignation. She'd simply accepted that to ride herself of the Evil Queen—to rid her friends and family and everyone else of the darkest piece of her persona—she would have to end her own life. He'd shook his head, adamantly refusing to accept that as he told her they'd find another way, that they could make her whole again and she could find acceptance—and her voice had been full of resolve as she explained that this was the fate she'd earned and the penance she'd have to pay.

When he told her that he loved her—that he loved all of her—and she'd said the words back to him, but behind her teary smile was deep sadness and a firm belief that she didn't deserve such unconditional affection or perhaps the sentiment was little more than words that were meant to make her feel better.

And when he looked at the Evil Queen—at this other side of Regina—he saw that same resignation and sadness, and it broke his heart.

She hadn't said much to him since he arrived; instead they sat in silence together, watching as Esme's eyelids grew heavier and heavier until she was sleeping soundly in the crook of the queen's arm. He was there beside her with his arm loosely formed around her waist and his head on her shoulder as he absently stroked his daughter's tiny foot—and when she turned to look at him, she'd offered a shaky sigh, fully expecting him to pull away and lift the sleeping infant from her arms and tell her that it was time to go. But that thought had never occurred to him.

Hours before he'd sent Regina a text. He told her that Esme was fine and he was with her—and she'd easily inferred what he wasn't telling her. It took her awhile to text back and she worried about what the Evil Queen might do—the word unhinged was used in a frantic tone—but he had no reason to believe her worry was warranted. The last text he sent her was a now-familiar sentiment, he'd told her that he loved her—all of her—and he'd see her soon.

"It's late," she murmurs as she looked down at the baby sleeping in her arms. "Shouldn't you be getting back to my better half?"

"It is late," he returns with a nod. "But I'm not ready to go, and judging by the looks of it, neither is Esme."

She turns her head to look at him with a furrowed brow, and he can tell she doesn't understand. So, he smiles gently as he leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek—and immediately she flinches, turning to him with wide and wild eyes, eyes that follow him as he leans in, brushing his lips over hers and breathing her in.

She swallows hard and he eyes fall to his lips, and he can how much this scares her—how afraid she is to let her guard down and show her vulnerability—because life has taught that such things only lead to heartache. But his fingers slips slowly against her jaw as he moves in, again brushing his lips over hers and gently sucking at her bottom lip, and she doesn't pull away.

For the life of him, he can't separate the two sides of her—because really, there's nothing to separate.

He didn't fall in love with heroine, just as he didn't fall in love with the queen. For him it was never about her darkness or her light, because it was never about just one piece of her. And while he doesn't know how so many people have somehow forgotten how beautifully complex she is or how those painful experiences crafted and molded her into the woman she eventually became, it's something he can't forget; and picking and choosing the pieces that he should love isn't an option for him.

"What are you doing?" She whispers, pulling back as her eyes lift to meet his. "You… shouldn't be…"

"I'm not afraid of you," he murmurs softly as smile tugs onto his lips—and he sees a flicker of a memory behind bewildered eyes. "And I never have been."

"You should be," she tells him as a hint of a smile forms.

"Maybe, but I've never been very good at doing what I should do," he admits with a shrug. "And I've never cared very much for rules."

"That makes two of us."

He nods in agreement, once more smiling as he leans back in and kisses her. She kisses him back with tentative lips, and when she pulls away, he sees a flicker of _his_ Regina in her—then suddenly, he knows exactly how to make her whole again. And with his newfound realization, he smiles and he leans back in.


	3. Chapter 3

Robin hadn't expected Regina to be awake—awake and waiting—when he got home.

He'd fully expected to come home to a quiet and darkened house, to put his daughter down into her cozy bassinette after a long, emotionally taxing day, and then retire himself. He'd yearned for the warm comfort of their bed, expecting to slide in beside her and nuzzle against her, to breathe her in and hold her as he drifted to sleep. He expected that explanations of what happened that night—explaining the story from beginning to end and filling in the gaps of how the Evil Queen had ended up with his infant daughter, how she'd cared for the tiny girl, never meaning her any harm, and how vulnerable and lonely she'd been, and how he couldn't bring himself to leave her. And, he'd expected that with a night's rest behind them, they could discuss what happened with clear and rational heads, and he'd hoped with open hearts.

But what he'd expected hadn't been what happened…

When he got home that night, it was actually morning; and the darkness of the sky was beginning to fade away. When the door opened, a thin strip of light stretched out from the kitchen and his eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the light that grew brighter and brighter as he walked toward it. He took a breath as he entered the kitchen, setting his daughter's carrier on the counter as his eyes fell to Regina.

His chest clenched and his jaw tightened as his eyes fell to her, sitting at the counter and nursing a cup of tea that had likely cooled long ago. Her shoulders were slumped forward and there were tear tracks on her cheeks—and when she looked up at him, he could see that her eyes were red and swollen.

"It appears you have I have very different understandings of what it means to be home soon," she says in a voice that's quiet and flat. "I waited up. I wanted to see her, to see that she was okay, to hold and…" Shaking her head, she scoffs and looks back down at the cup of tea. "I didn't expect that you'd spend the whole night with _her_."

"I… I'm sorry," he tells her, fully aware that his apology is only partially true—he doesn't regret the spending the better part of the night holding the Evil Queen or allowing her cuddle his daughter; he doesn't regret kissing her or making her feel less alone in the world, and he most certainly doesn't regret loving her in spite of everything. But he does regret that those things hurt Regina—that they hurt her other half—and most of all, he regrets that they're even in this situation.

"Are you?" She asks as she turns to face him. "Are you sorry? What exactly is it that you're sorry about?" She blinks and he watches the way her shoulders square in defense, watching as her walls go up and she prepares for a fight—a fight they both know will have no winner. "Are you sorry that I spent the entire night worrying? Worrying about what she might do to you, what she might say… what she'd do to that precious little girl…" Her voice cracks as it trails off. "Worrying about my worst nightmare coming true?"

"Regina, I…"

"Did you think at all about me when you were with her?"

"This… isn't fair…"

"You're right," she tells him with a curt nod, her eyes hardening as they meet his. "It's not fair that you spend a night with _her_."

"I… didn't _spend the night_ with her," he murmurs, somewhat caught off guard by the biting hurt behind her words and the defensiveness in his own. "You're making it sound like I'm having an affair or that…"

"Are you?"

"Regina!"

"Are you!?" She asks again, her voice louder and her eyes wider as her chin begins to tremble. "Is… that why you stayed?"

"I just… I couldn't leave her."

"Of course you couldn't."

"Regina, this is ridiculous."

"You didn't answer my question," she says, taking a short breath as her eyes press closed, her pain more than obvious. "Are you having an…"

"She's not someone else," he cuts in. "She's not some other woman. She's _you_. When I feel in love with you, I fell in love with _all of you_ ; and even though you separated yourself, even though you tore yourself in half, and even though everyone in your life seems to think this was a good thing for you, I will never be convinced that it was." He pauses for a moment, feeling his lungs deflate as he looks at her, feeling so helpless and lost, not knowing what to do or say. "I _can't_ separate the two sides of you. When I look at _her_ , I just see _you_."

Looking up, Regina nods. "Do you… prefer that side of me? Do you prefer me like that?"

"Regina, this… isn't fair."

"Well that I can agree with," she says, her voice suddenly hoarse. His heart aches as she reaches up and swipes her fingers over her eyes, pushing away the tears that began to well—and she when she looks back at him, all he wants to do is hold her and make it okay—but he knows that he can't, he knows this isn't something that he can fix. "When she told me that she was going sit back and watch us all tear each other apart I… I… never thought that… that this where it would start."

"Regina…"

"I know better than anyone how manipulative she can be. I should have seen this coming."

"Regina," he murmurs again as she slides off the stool at the counter. "Regina, please…" he says, reaching for her as she turns away, shaking her head as she sucks in a breath and struggles against her tears. "If you'd only…"

"Not now," she says as she walks past him. "I just… want to go to bed and… forget about this for a little while."

"Regina, we should talk out this. You can't just…"

"No," she says in a barely audible voice as she starts toward the stairs, leaving him standing there, alone and helpless, and overwrought with guilt; and he wishes, more than anything she could understand that every part of her was worth loving.


	4. Chapter 4

Robin stood in the kitchen, feeling helpless and deflated as he watched Regina walk away, leaving him to grapple with what should come next—grappling with whether or not there was anything he could do or say to make her understand, grappling with how he could even begin to fix this.

His immediate inclination was to go after her—to follow her upstairs and to pull her into a tight hug, to hold her tightly against his chest and assure her that she was loved. He wanted to kiss away her tears and soothe her worries; and he wanted to make her understand that she never needed to change herself to be worthy of a second chance or of happiness or of love—and he wanted to make her understand that she had always been enough.

But he had no idea how to do any of that or whether or not she'd be receptive to it; and when the bedroom door slammed shut, he was bought back into the present moment and sent a clear signal that he wasn't wanted—not then—and he should stay away.

 _Should_ , he'd thought to himself with a sigh—doing what he should had never been something he'd been particularly good at. And he knew that deep down, no matter what she did or said, no matter how angry or hurt she was, she never actually wanted to be alone—because for her, there was nothing worse than being alone.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhales it as he reaches for Esme's carrier, carefully lifting it from the counter and taking her up the stairs to her room. He moved slowly and deliberately, careful not to wake her—and when he turned on the lamp in her room, he felt his heart swell. Nothing was out of the ordinary; the room looked just as it did the last time he'd stood in it—yet somehow, it felt so different.

There wasn't a thing in the nursery that he'd picked out or purchased—everything had been carefully selected by Regina. From the petal pink walls to the white furniture to the unicorn mobile that hung over her bassinette, she'd chosen every last detail of the room not out of a sense of obligation but because she'd wanted to, because she loved the little girl who would occupy it. Esme wasn't just his daughter; she was theirs—and that night, when Zelena had rushed frantically into the diner and announced that she was missing, Regina had been just as terrified as he.

The knot in his stomach begins to tighten as he lifts Esme from her carrier and situates her in her bassinette—and a wave of guilt washes over him. Though relief had come quickly to him, Regina had spent the entire night waiting and wondering and uncertain.

Leaning in, he kisses his daughter's forehead, lingering for just a moment to ensure that she stays asleep—and then, he makes his way down the hall. Carefully, he turns the door knob, letting himself into the darkened room, and his heart immediately clenches. Regina's lying on the bed with her back to him, hugging a pillow as soft, muffled cries escape her—and he hates that he's the reason for it.

"Love," he murmurs in a hushed voice as he takes a step forward. "Regina…"

"Go away," she manages to say, not bothering to lift her head or try to look at him. "I don't want to fight about this anymore, I just…"

"I'm sorry," he tells her, his voice sincere as it hitches in his throat. "I… can't do that. I can't go away. I won't." Again, she makes no effort to look at him—and this time, she doesn't respond at all. Sitting down at the edge of the bed, he tentatively reaches for her, his heart aching when she flinches, pulling herself away from him. "Regina, please… just…" His voice trails off—he's not sure what to say or what to ask, he's not sure of anything other than that he wants to comfort her, however she'll let him.

"I just… want to be alone."

"No, you don't," he says, lying down beside her. "I know you don't want that." Slowly, his arm wraps around his middle—and though she tries to pull away, he pulls her back against him and when he does, she doesn't try to pull away. "I'm sorry that you spent tonight alone. I'm sorry that you were worried and I'm sorry that I wasn't here," he tells her—this time earnest and whole-hearted. "But I won't apologize for loving you, for loving the parts of yourself you wish you could erase, the parts you've spent a lifetime hating, but I _am_ sorry that you're hurting."

Regina lets out a shaky breath. "You're going to see her again though?"

"Let's talk about that tomorrow," he replies, pressing his eyes shut and fully aware of his answer. "Tonight, I just… I want to hold you. Can I do that?" For a few minutes, she doesn't reply. He can feel her crying—her shoulder rising and falling with each shaky breath—and he presses his lips to the back of her neck as he nuzzles her, trying his best to soothe her. "I love you," he whispers, wishing that his love her were enough—wishing that his love could console her, that it could make her accept herself, that it could make her whole again—but understanding its limitations. "I love you so much."

Slowly, she turns herself and he smiles a little when she faces him. He tucks her hair behind her ears, letting the back of his fingers rub against her cheek. Leaning in, he kisses her forehead, then her nose and then her lips as his arm slides around her to rub her back . She's still crying and he lets her cry, knowing that a few soft touches can't fix years of heartache and self-loathing. He tells her again and again that he loves her—and he can only wish that it could be enough.

"I'm glad that Esme's okay," she says, breaking the silence that's fallen between them. "When you told me that… that she… had her I just…"

"Shhh…" he murmurs, leaning in and pressing his lips to her forehead. "You don't have to explain."

"I want to…"

"Okay…"

"I thought about what _I_ would do, why _I_ would take her and… I…" Her voice tails off as shaky breath escapes her. "Robin, I… didn't know that I wouldn't hurt her. I didn't know that I wouldn't hurt her to… to… get back at myself." Pulling back a little, he looks into her eyes, and for a moment, he's taken aback by the sheer terror that resonates in them. "My first thought was… was that… _I'd hurt her_."

"Regina," he says softly, not quite sure how to respond, but realizing this is the first time she's referred to herself and the Evil Queen as one in the same. "What are you… saying?"

Her eyes press closed and her face crumbles. "What if… the… worst part of me is… still inside of me?" Taking a breath her eyes open. "For so long I've thought of her as… as separate from me. I've thought of her as the worst part of me, but… even without her, I still have the potential for darkness… so I'm still…" Her voice trails off and he watches as her eyes grow distant—and again, his heart aches for her. "What does it say about me that… that my first thought was that she'd hurt her, and hers was to protect her?" Robin blinks—he knows what she's wondering, what she's asking—and he doesn't quite know how to respond. "What if… _I'm_ the evil one and… not _her_?"

"I… don't think either side of you is evil," he murmurs in a tentative voice. "I think you've always been reactionary—reacting to things around, reacting to the things that have happened to you… always assuming the worst because that's what life's taught you to expect."

"Maybe," she replies, in a voice that sounds less than convinced. He hugs her closer, holding her tightly as his hand rubs in circular motions over her back as he tries in vain to soothe her—and then, after a few minutes, she takes in a sharp breath. "I shouldn't have done it," she tells him in a voice that's barely audible. "I shouldn't have done this to myself," she repeats, lifting her head and looking at him with wide and teary eyes. "At least before I could… control what I… thought and felt and…" Tears spill down her cheeks as she shakes her head. "I didn't have to fear myself, I didn't have to fear what I'd do to the people I love."

"Oh, love," he sighs as he pulls her back to him and presses his lips to her temple, unsure of what to say, unsure of whether or not there was a way to fix what she'd done; and though, it seemed she regretted it for the wrong reasons—regretting it out of fear rather than acceptance—he knew that it was a step in the right direction.


	5. Chapter 5

He knows he's hurting her–both sides of her–and he doesn't know how to stop it.

He doesn't know how to stop any of it.

Support for one feels like a betrayal to the other–and he sees it every time he looks in the deep brown eyes that they share. He can't fathom how this was allowed to happen or how it can continue; he can't fathom choosing between the two sides of her; and he can't fathom a way for this to end without heartbreak.

It goes on for weeks and it creates a ripple effect. He was the first to see it–and then Henry and then others–and slowly but surely the people who love her–the people who encouraged her to do this to herself–begin to see that she's not the same, she's not the Regina they've all come to love. The fire is gone from her eyes; there's a trepidation in her words, an uneasiness that's not apparent at first glance. Of course, Regina hides it well–and though she hasn't mentioned it, she knows it, too. He catches her very now and then grimacing when her voice falls quiet, knowing that it isn't like her; he sees it when her hands begin to shake when the memories of her painful past catch her off guard; and he can see it reflected in her eyes whenever someone decides to comment on how much she's changed, how far she's come, and how relieved she must be to have the slate wiped clean and to be able to live without the baggage or the fear that that side of her will once more take over.

He's not sure why they say it–and it's rarely said directly to her, it's usually something that's overhead–and he supposes that the reason behind their words doesn't matter. But regardless of intent, it never fails to make his jaw tighten and his blood boil. But he chooses not to let on–at least not when she's near. He knows how hard this is on her–on both sides of her–and getting angry won't help. Focusing on the changes in her are futile–there's nothing that can be done–and he does his best to reassure her. But privately, all too often, he finds himself cursing and raging against the things he knows he can't undo…

When he slips into bed beside her, he hears her voice hitch and his eyes sink closed, and he holds his breath as she rolls over to face him. The tear tracks on her cheeks break his heart, and he feels a surge of emotion–a mix of compassion and anger, a mix of guilt and love–and he hates this. He hates it each and every time that it happens; and he hates knowing that it'll happen again.

"You were with her…"

"I was," he murmurs back, not offering any more and hoping with every fiber of his being that she doesn't ask for more–that she doesn't ask the questions she doesn't want to hear the answers to, the answers that make him feel so conflicted. It's no secret that he loves her–that he loves all of her–but what that means, exactly, isn't quite clear and it's something that they don't discuss.

"Oh…" she murmurs, her voice resigned. "I… thought you might stay the night. It's so late."

For a moment, his heart beat slows. He can't tell her that he wanted to or that leaving has become increasingly difficult. So, instead, he lets his arm fall over her hip and he rests his forehead against hers and he reminds her the loves her–and he wishes that that weren't a bittersweet sentiment. Nonetheless, she nods and pecks his lips–and when she meekly asks if he'll hold her, a soft smile stretches onto his lips as he pulls her close to him… and slowly, he feels her drifting off and not long after, his eyelids grow heavier and heavier until they sink closed for the night.

They wake with a start and before they can even process Esme's crying, there's a flash of green light–and then, it's impossible for him to process what happens next. They both scramble out of bed with racing hearts, and his stomach drops as a high-pitched gasp escapes Regina when their eyes fall to an empty crib.

He looks back at Regina and he sees the same panic in her eyes that he's feeling in his heart. Swallowing hard, he looks back to the crib, grappling with where Zelena would have taken her, what she plans to do with her–and momentarily, his eyes sink close with the realization that Esme could be halfway to Oz.

Regina gives his hand a reassuring squeeze–she knows that he fears the worst. "We'll find her," she tells him, her voice shaky as she offers a tight, worried smile. "I promise."

"Regina, Zelena is…"

"Psychotic," she interjects. "I know. It… runs in the family." His immediate thought is to tell her that that's not quite true, that she isn't like her sister, that she wouldn't harm an innocent child to make her parents pay for the sins she believed the committed. But Regina's voice beats his, and when their eyes meet, he sees something indescribable, something he can't quite pinpoint, but something that looks vaguely familiar, in them. "I… have an idea," she tells him in a tentative voice, giving his hand a gentle tug as she takes a breath–and a moment later, they're consumed in a cloud of purple smoke.

When the smoke fades, he's a little dizzy and the surroundings he finds himself in aren't at all what he expected. He expected them to go to Zelena's farmhouse, to try to catch her red-handed, to catch her before she could do whatever it was she was planning to do. But instead, they're standing in the woods, just beyond the cemetery and a few yards from the mausoleum that the Evil Queen's vault lies beneath.

He was here only a few hours before–and then, his sweet and tiny daughter had been fine. She'd dozed in the queen's arms and she'd giggled as her jewelry dangled above her; she'd been safe and secure, and his only worry had been the queen's sad eyes as he left for the night, and Regina's sad eyes when he returned home.

"Regina, what… are we doing here?"

A lopsided smile that manages to stab at his heart forms over her lips. "Even I'm not cavalier enough to think I can handle my sister on my own…" She shrugs and nods toward the mausoleum, and for a moment, she looks so defeated. "There are some things the other half of me was just… better at."

She leads him inside and his stomach churns. He tells himself that Zelena wouldn't hurt her own daughter, he tells himself that this is all an attempt to hurt him and Regina, he tells himself that it has nothing to do with Esme. And as Regina opens the passageway to the vault, he tells himself that this feeling he has–the fear and the dread and the helplessness–will be worst of it.

"You should go first," Regina says, looking back at him. "She trusts you."

He nods and starts down the stairs, reaching behind himself and holding onto her fingers. In part, he does it because he knows how hard this is for her, how hard it is for her to come face-to-face with her other half–the part of herself she loathes so deeply; but there's another part of himself, and in this moment it's the larger part, that does it simply because he needs her.

Their presence is unexpected and he can see it in the queen's eyes as she turns to face them, her eyes widening a little at the sight of him and then her brow furrowing as Regina steps in behind him. For a moment, he doesn't say anything; instead, he looks between them and for an all too brief moment, he can feel the presence of the woman he fell in love with and the woman he's missed so deeply.

"Why did you bring her here?" The queen asks, her voice growling to mask her vulnerability as her eyes shift from Robin to Regina.

His heart aches at the betrayal in her voice; but before he can find the words to explain, Regina steps forward. "We need your help."

" _You_ need _me_?" A bitter laugh rises into her voice. "Well, well, isn't _that_ ironic."

Robin's eyes shift between them; but once more, it's Regina who speaks. "Zelena took Esme." The queen's face changes at the mention of the little girl's name. He eyes widen and her jaw tightens and he can tell that she's looking for someone to blame and that she wants to lash out. He watches as her trembling hands ball up into fists and he can hear shaky breaths growing louder with rage until she's wild-eyed and seething. "I… can't do this without you. I can't help her," Regina says, taking a short breath and swallowing hard in an effort to keep her tears at bay. "But you can. Because if anyone can stop the Wicked Witch, it's… the Evil Queen."

For a moment, the queen just stares at her–staring her down as if to measure her sincerity, as if to try to locate the trap. But in spite of everything, Robin knows she'll do it because he knows what's in her heart, and he can see that the queen knows that Regina wouldn't have come to her if she weren't desperate; and most of all, she knows that Regina would never use a innocent child as a bargaining chip. Her eyes slowly slide to him and she offers a fleeting, half-hearted smile, and for a brief moment, his heart warms at the realization that even if she's unsure of whether or not can trust herself, she knows that she can trust him and he'd never do something to intentionally harm her.

"What happened?" she asks him.

"We were almost asleep and then… all of the sudden Esme was crying and there was a flash of green light," Robin explains as Regina lets go of his hand and folds her arms over her chest. "And when we got to the nursery… she was… gone."

Regina takes a breath and pushes herself forward. "I have something I think we can use."

The queen eyes her as she reaches for a little box on a shelf and slowly, she withdraws a necklace that Zelena used to wear. "I was thinking a locator spell could…"

The queen reaches for the necklace and Regina flinches as their fingertips meet–and Robin watches as a dark grin twists onto the queen's lips as she lifts it, dangling it in front of herself. "You can run, sis; but you can never hide. Not from me."

It doesn't take long for them to mix the potion, and for a few minutes, he's glad for the distraction they create. He watches the way they move together, watching the way they seem to be one step ahead of the other, anticipating the other's moves and needs, watching how in sync they are with each other–almost as if they're one again.

The necklace begins to float away, and they follow it. With each step he takes his heart pounds faster and louder until it's thumping his his ears and reverberating through his every nerve–and then suddenly, they stop. Regina grabs onto his wrist and the queen brazenly moves forward, an added determination in her every step. He's seen this before–this side of her, that hell-bent determination that propels her toward a target and there's a little part of him that's missed it. He watches as she readies her hand, a little flame igniting in her palm–and momentarily, she turns back to them and he can see a matching fire in her eyes.

"It's going to be okay," Regina murmurs. "Everything's going to be okay." Robin nods–he knows that she wasn't talk to him, that she wasn't trying to reassure him–she knows better than anyone what's at stake and that one ill planned move could cost them both everything. Her fingers tighten around her wrist and she takes a cautious step forward, following as the queen flicks her wrist and throws open the cellar doors.

He breathes an odd sigh of relief as he hears Esme's quiet cries–and the queen hesitates for a brief second before pushing her hands forward, magic streaming from them. Robin's eyes widen as Zelena stands, immobilized in the poorly lit cellar. Fear shines in her eyes as the queen laughs out and tells her this was almost too easy, that if the circumstances were different, she'd feel sorry for her. Regina's fingers press harder into his wrist and her nails dig into his skin as the queen moves closer and reaches for the baby tucked into the crook of Zelena's stiffened arm.

Esme lets out a muffled cry and her little pink clad feet kick back and forth–and Robin turns to watch Regina as a smile draws onto the queen's face and she begins to rock the baby. She coos and sways and Esme's cries grow fainter and when a little giggle escapes her, Regina's breath catches in her throat and her fingers loosen on his wrist, releasing him.

Tentatively, he takes a step toward them as he lets out a breath of relief. His hand brushes at the small of the queen's back and he leans in, kissing his daughter's head as he says a million silent thank yous to any higher beings that may be listening at that moment. Just beyond them, Zelena continues to struggle against herself–enraged by the happy reunion playing out in front of her–and Robin watches as she catches the queen's gaze. A little reluctantly, she transfers the baby into Robin's arms–and Regina meets him as he takes a few steps back–and all he can do is watch.

The queen waves her hand and immediately, Zelena is freed–and a deep laugh rises from the queen. "You've made a grave mistakes, sis," the queen grows as Zelena's eyes grow wild. "Had you forgotten who you're dealing with?"

"On the contrary," Zelena replies as her eyes slide from the queen to Regina. "I haven't forgotten anything." Robin's stomach churns as Zelena turns sharply toward him, raising her arm as her fingers curl toward her palm. Her eyes are wild and a cackle rumbles from her chest–and it's only when its echo fades, he hears Regina struggling to breath. He calls out something he's not aware of and the queen's eyes widen–and just as she takes a step forward, Regina's shoved backward and Zelena's rage is unleashed on the queen. She lets out a sharp gasp as Zelena's hand plunges into her chest and for the first time that night, fear registers in her eyes.

Robin crouches down to offer Regina a hand, pulling her up and and into his arms as they watch Zelena's hand pull back, her eyes glowing with victory as she stares at the queen's blackened heart–and then, her smile broadens as turns toward them. Robin's arm tightens around Regina's shoulders and his stomach drops with the realization that there's nothing he can do–one misstep and they'll both be gone.

Tears well in his eyes and Regina winces in pain as Zelena's fingers squeeze her heart–and then Zelena laughs out. "For my entire life, I've watched you take what's mine," she snarls. "So isn't it fitting that I take this from you? After all this time, I finally win."

Robin hears his voice trying to reason with her–begging her to let them live, begging her to think of her daughter. It kills him to say it, to give her that position in his child's life, even if for just a fleeting moment, but he's desperate and he'll say anything. The queen lets out a shaky cry as Regina starts to waiver–and he can feel them beginning to slip away. His heart aches and his stomach churns, and for a brief moment, just as he starts to take a step, he looks between them–and finds the queen's eyes locked with Regina's. There's a glimmer of something he can't quite place, but something they both clearly understand–and just as he takes a step, Zelena's eyes widen and her fist clenches tighter on the heart. He calls out again–yelling an elongated "no" as he watches the queen drop to the floor–and then, as he turns back to Regina, he feels her slipping from his arm.

Tears well in his eyes and suddenly everything around him is blurry–and then, Regina slips away.

He winches, his eyes pressing shut and his chest tightening, arching as she shrinks away from him. He finds himself holding Esme a little tighter against his body, clutching her as though to shield her–in all the ways he thought this might end, he never quite imagined it happening like this.

Zelena shrieks forcing open his eyes just in time to see Regina–a very much alive Regina–plunging her hand into Zelena's chest, and no sooner than she withdraws her heart, her fingers fold around it–and then, all that remains is 's eyes widen–and for a second, he doesn't understand–and then, as he gaze moves from her hand to her face, a slow smile edges onto his lips because looking back at him is _his_ Regina.


End file.
